The List
by Catalina Day
Summary: Add Wisconsin to the ever growing list of places you can never go back to. Check. --Dean has a list. Takes place between 'Born Under a Bad Sign' and 'Tall Tales'.--


**A/N:** Don't ask me why, but Dean lives his life in lists, apparently. Also, I have carpel tunnel, and yet insist on being a dumbass and writing this anyway. :D This is completely unbeta'd and barely edited. Takes place sometime between 'Born Under a Bad Sign' and 'Tall Tales'. Also, I haven't seen seasons three or four yet, so if you review please try not to spoil them for me; it's really all I ask. Though I don't know why anyone would... color me paranoid. *shrug*

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, or the characters or plotlines contained therein. Sometimes I just write about them, for funsies. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**The List**

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Add Wisconsin to the ever growing list of places you can never go back to.

_Check_.

It's right there under Cape Girardeau and, hell, while you're at it you might as well just avoid Missouri entirely. It's easier to just not even enter the state than to keep yourself from finding Cassie again. Not to see her; not in person, anyway. Just to make sure she's safe.

But you don't even buy your own bullshit, and that's why you add Missouri to the list.

At the top of the list is St. Louis, and that hardly needs an explanation. And damn it if you don't just have a really craptacular relationship with Missouri at this point, because very bad shit seems to go down there. Then again, bad stuff follows you where ever you go. Or you follow it, you can't really remember. It all blends together into a faded film in your head that plays on repeat, even after you fall asleep sometimes.

You find Missouri on the list, and you underline it twice.

Baltimore was really nothing special, until you got arrested for murder. And you thought then that there were certain things you could deal with. Certain things that came with this life, like being suspected of killing people even after police found a dead body that looked just like you but wasn't. If it wasn't for Sammy, even as messed up as you both are now, you swear you'd eat your gun. Not the Colt 1911, 'cause that hits, strangely, too close to home. But the Winchester, because it's ironic and the idea of it brings a dry, lifeless chuckle tumbling from your throat.

Baltimore goes on the list too. '_Ah fuck it_,' you think, and write Maryland next to it.

Then there's Twin Lake, Michigan and Duluth, Minnesota. You sigh and rub your palm down over your face, like you can just wipe away your mistakes with your sweat. Even though Sam would say it's not, you find a way to make it your fault.

You didn't do your job; you didn't protect Sammy, and now there's two towns and one whole state you'll never see again. 'Cause if Sam can't go back, then there's no reason for you to.

But there was nothing interesting in Michigan, anyway, and Duluth, well... it's just better if you don't touch that one, and instead hope (however stupidly, 'cause you're good at that) that Jo stays put, and makes staying away from her a whole lot easier for you.

You scrawl out Michigan and Duluth in blue pen, and snap the notebook shut.

You don't want to look at the list right now, because you know it'll get longer before this is done. And suddenly you feel like a lab rat, running on one of those spinny wheels and getting nowhere really fuckin' fast. It's like you're all crammed up inside your own head.

The sudden urge to head out to Arizona overtakes you, and you start to pack your bag, frantic. Sam snorts and moves around under the covers and you stop reaching for your gun, and turn.

"Sammy," you say, shoving his shoulder hard anough to wake him.

"Wha...?" You offer him a tight-lipped smile, and he stares at you.

"Get up; we're leaving." You can see he's about to question it, so you turn toward your bag. "Yeah," you say, like he already asked you something, "I just need to get outta here... ya know?"

Your back to him, you leave the question hanging there while you quickly finish packing. When you look behind you, he's sitting up in bed and there's something in his gaze you can't quite decipher. Don't want to. And you try to pretend you're not giving him the most pleading look you've ever given in your entire life, eyes all but empty and begging for some time to do _something_.

"So," he says, starting to pack too, "Where are we going?"

"Arizona," you say, voice stilted and raw. When you get to the Grand Canyon, when you finally get to see it in all it's Big Giant Hole in the Ground glory... You'll add it to the list, and you'll never look back.


End file.
